


And Since We've No Place to Go (Let It Snow)

by whisperedstory



Series: Geraskier Holiday Fics [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27842416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperedstory/pseuds/whisperedstory
Summary: Life at Kaer Morhen slows down as the snow starts falling more heavily outside. This is the part of winter Geralt has been looking forward to the most—being tucked away in his bedroom with Jaskier, safe and warm and happy.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Holiday Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038057
Comments: 24
Kudos: 389





	And Since We've No Place to Go (Let It Snow)

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by [dancing_adrift](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancing_Adrift) <3
> 
> Title from the song Let it Snow! (written by Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne).

It had started snowing mid-morning, just a few stray flakes at first, but then more steadily and by midday the snowfall was heavy enough that it put an end to the repairs they'd been making on the eastern wall of the keep. 

They all gathered in the great hall, Lambert, Eskel and Geralt making enough noise as they came in from the cold to draw Vesemir out of the library and Jaskier from wherever he'd been hiding. Judging by the ink stains on his fingers, he'd been composing after his own chores—feeding the horses and chickens—were completed. They had mulled wine and bread and cheese, but after a while everyone drifted off to do their own thing and Geralt dragged Jaskier to their shared room. Now, hours later, they're still happily cloistered away there.

Life at Kaer Morhen, Geralt knows, will slow down now as the snow will force them to remain inside more often than not. This is the part of wintering at the keep he always looks forward to the most, especially this year with Jaskier here.

 _This_ , right now, is what he'd been thinking about when he asked Jaskier to winter with him, the two of them tucked away in his bedroom, safe and warm and sated, as winter rears its ugly head.

Geralt hums in contentment. Thick flakes are falling down outside, making it hard to see anything but _white_ as he looks out the windows where a thick line of snow is already gathered at the bottom. But here, inside his bedroom, it's warm and cozy. There's a fire crackling merrily in the hearth, enough wood stacked next to it to keep the room nice and heated for a while. 

Geralt's gaze drifts back to Jaskier, sprawled out on his stomach next to him, stark naked save for the fur tangled around his legs, only pulled up to the mid of his thighs. His cheek is pillowed on his folded arms and his eyes are half-lidded, a small smile on his lips. He looks utterly content and utterly debauched and Geralt feels a flash of pride for being responsible for both. 

He lifts his hand, touching the tips of his fingers to Jaskier's neck before slowly trailing them down warm, smooth skin, following Jaskier's spine all the way to the small of his back. Jaskier wiggles a little and gives a small sigh, his smile growing wider.

Geralt lets his gaze move down Jaskier's body, from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist and perfectly sloped ass. He's never seen anyone in his life so tempting and he's glad that he finally gave in this summer after years of denying himself, of thinking he wasn't good enough, that he would never be able to hold Jaskier's attention. 

Geralt lets out another hum, thinking about how wrong he was. He admitted to his feelings, staked his claim, and this wonderful, wondrous creature is all his now. 

"You're having sappy thoughts, witcher," Jaskier murmurs, voice lilting teasingly. "I can tell." 

"I'm not," Geralt lies.

"Hmm, no? Then what, pray tell, are you thinking about?" Jaskier challenges and shifts under Geralt's hand, stretching before sinking back down in the nest of pillows and furs and blankets piled around them. 

"Nothing." 

Jaskier snorts. "I bet you were thinking about me," he says and arches an eyebrow. "You love thinking about me." 

"Perhaps," Geralt admits and gives Jaskier a grin. "Perhaps I was thinking about how good and tight you feel around me. How sweetly I made you scream. That I might just do that again, several times, today." 

"Oh," Jaskier breathes and Geralt can smell his arousal, warm and heady. 

He licks his lips and slips his hand lower, letting two fingers slide between Jaskier's cheeks down to his hole. He's sticky-wet with oil and Geralt's seed and want coils in Geralt's belly. He's not feeling as frenzied now, the way he did earlier when they tumbled into bed together, desperation tamed but his hunger for Jaskier just as strong, unwavering.

He rubs the pads of his fingers over Jaskier's hole, feels the muscles clench under his touch, and Jaskier moans quietly.

"Good?" Geralt checks. 

In lieu of a reply Jaskier lets his thighs fall open wider and tilts his hips up, pressing back into Geralt's fingers. His cheeks are starting to color, soft pink spots appearing as his arousal spikes, the scent getting headier. Geralt lets out a quiet groan at the sight. He watches Jaskier's face with rapt attention as he gives him what he wants and sinks two fingers into him, feels smug and pleased when Jaskier's lips part in a small 'o', eyes going a little glassy. He takes Geralt's fingers easily, still open and wet from before. Geralt pumps them in and out a few times, movements slow and almost lazy, enjoying how hot and tight Jaskier feels, how he rocks back into Geralt's touch. He has never been with someone like Jaskier, someone so responsive and eager and insatiable. Taking everything Geralt gives and then asking for more.

Geralt pulls his fingers out, stomach coiling tight at the slick noise, knowing it's mostly his own mess keeping Jaskier so wet right now. He can smell it, too, his sweat and spend all over Jaskier, mixed with Jaskier's own scent. Geralt sighs and leans in, nuzzling the side of Jaskier's neck.

"Geralt," Jaskier says, all breathless and wanting, and Geralt presses back into him with three fingers. Jaskier moans quietly and for a moment Geralt thinks about making him come just like this, just from playing with him with his fingers. But his own cock is curved against his belly, hard and insistent, his erection never having flagged completely.

Geralt hums, brushes his mouth against Jaskier's pulsepoint and curls his fingers to press against Jaskier's prostate. Jaskier gasps and a shudder goes through him.

Geralt grins. "Cold?" he teases.

Jaskier huffs. "What will you do to keep me warm if I say yes, witcher?" he asks cheekily. 

Geralt snorts. "I can think of a thing or two," he murmurs. He pulls out of again and then lifts his body up over Jaskier, settling down between his splayed legs. He presses Jaskier down with his weight, rolls his hips against the swell of Jaskier's ass and nuzzles his nape. "Better?" 

"Hmm. Get in me," Jaskier demands, bratty and breathless and Geralt's heart swells with love. 

He laughs against the back of Jaskier's neck, presses a kiss to the warm skin and then lifts up a little to grab the vial of oil from the nightstand. He sits back, pulls the stopper free with his teeth and pours some into his palm to slick himself up before setting the vial aside again.

He palms Jaskier's cheeks, giving them a firm squeeze before pulling them further apart, looking down at the traces of their earlier coupling between Jaskier's legs. 

"Like what you see?" Jaskier asks, tone sweet and teasing. He knows the answer, knows how much Geralt loves looking at him. His hole is red and a little puffy and glistening, the sticky mess dripped down onto his balls and between his thighs. Nothing this filthy should look this damn beautiful and Geralt is half tempted to lick him clean instead of fucking him and adding another load to the mess. Later, he decides. Later he'll spread Jaskier wide and bury his face between his cheeks, or maybe pull him up to sit on his face and eat him out until Jaskier is crying his name. 

"Geralt," Jaskier says, wiggling a little in Geralt's grip.

"Patience," Geralt mutters, giving Jaskier's ass another squeeze. He leans over Jaskier and places his mouth to the fading bruise at the curve of Jaskier's neck. There's a fresh one right next to it, no doubt still tender. 

Geralt curls a hand around the base of his cock and guides it to Jaskier's hole, until the head nudges against the rim. 

"Jaskier," he murmurs and then slowly presses his hips forward, sinking into Jaskier. The muscles open up around him easily, Jaskier taking Geralt with practiced ease, but still gripping him tightly. Geralt groans against Jaskier's neck and doesn't stop, rocks his hips forward until he's all the way in, hips flush against Jaskier's ass. 

Jaskier makes this little sound, somewhere between a mewl and a gasp, and he feels so good, smells so good, and Geralt wants to keep him like this forever, wants to stay buried in his perfect heat until the snow melts and spring blooms and he and Jaskier will set out again and he'll get to do this every night under the stars.

The thought makes Geralt sigh against Jaskier's skin. "The things you do to me," he murmurs, fond and exasperated all at once.

"What things?" Jaskier asks, voice slurred, and rocks back onto him impatiently. 

Geralt nips at his neck in warning, which only seems to spur Jaskier on, making him arch under Geralt. Geralt huffs and uses his weight to pin Jaskier down properly, lying over his back.

"Geralt," Jaskier whines, and Geralt smiles against the side of his throat.

"Hmm." 

He doesn't let Jaskier up, keeps him pressed down into the mattress, but he does start grinding down, rutting into Jaskier almost lazily. He loves having him like this, when the first orgasm has taken care of the urgent need and he can just sink into Jaskier and keep himself buried inside of him, never pulling out far, Jaskier's hot, tight hole engulfing him fully. Jaskier whines and whimpers, but Geralt knows he loves this just as much, loves being pinned and filled, stretched wide by Geralt's cock, loves the sweet, slow burn of being teased. He can come like this, just from Geralt being pressed in deep, from letting Jaskier feel claimed.

"So good for me," he praises. "You're so good for me, Jask. You feel so incredible."

Jaskier moans his name, broken and feverish. 

Geralt nuzzles his neck, kisses his jaw and cheek and rolls his hips down, over and over, slow and steady. 

"All mine," Geralt murmurs.

"Yes. Always," Jaskier replies. His eyes are dazed and his voice sounds awed, otherworldly. Geralt knows he means it. He's Geralt's forever—for decades, centuries, millennia to come, and Geralt plans to worship him for just as long, his little godling. Between their bodies, his medallion vibrates warmly, no doubt leaving an imprint on Jaskier's skin. 

"Love you," he says and covers one of Jaskier's hands with his, tangling their fingers as he ruts down. He listens to the way Jaskier's breath hitches, feels him tremble.

"Come for me," he murmurs, and moments later Jaskier does with a silent scream, body going tight around Geralt. Geralt grunts and follows him over the edge, spilling his seed deep inside of him.

He slumps forward, remains on top— _inside_ —of Jaskier with his nose tucked into the curve of his neck, breathing in the heady scent of Jaskier, of both of them. His medallion still hums warmly and Geralt smiles.

Outside, it's still snowing, flakes big and heavy. Geralt knows the weather will stay like this for weeks to come, and so will they. This year and the following and for as long as Jaskier is willing to stay at his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Other places you can find me: [twitter](https://twitter.com/whispered_story) | [tumblr](https://whispered-story.tumblr.com/)


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